


Safe and Sound

by alakeofstars



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, Dialogue Heavy, Fake Woke Moms, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alakeofstars/pseuds/alakeofstars
Summary: No one seemed to notice that Yukhei stopped talking. Or, if they did, it was more desirable this way. He dove deeper into his homework and his grades were better than ever. He did his best to be a good son; when his friends needed him, he was the shoulder to lean on, quiet and understanding.This was who they all wanted. This, he decided, was who he was supposed to be.— This one is on hiatus, as it ended up being ridiculously triggering to write.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Kim Jungwoo & Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Yukhei had lived in his apartment just off campus two years, since mid-sophomore year when his parents successfully petitioned to allow him to move off campus. It was small — probably too small for two people to share for long, despite being a two-bedroom — but it was sweet and it was quiet, and with Jungwoo there, it felt like home. So much so that when it came time to apply for graduate school, Yukhei had elected to stay at his current university, but he didn’t tell his parents that.

“Who are you taking your senior capstone with?” Jungwoo asked on Sunday morning, both hands cradling his mug of coffee. The heat was on but the apartment had poor insulation and it always seemed to be just a little too cold for him, who complained often of cold hands and feet.

“Choi on Thursdays.”

“Ah,” Jungwoo said with a grin, “you know, my friend is one of the TAs in that class.”

“Yeah?” Yukhei tried to remember if the names of the TAs had been listed in the syllabus — and who Jungwoo was friends with that could be old enough to be a graduate student advanced far enough to be assisting in a writing intensive course. “What’s their name?”

“Ten. He’s really nice. You’ll like him. He doesn’t do that god-awful lording over underclassmen that other TAs do,” Jungwoo added with a roll of his eyes. Yukhei knew exactly what he was talking about and they both said, at nearly the same time, in obnoxious voices: “ _I don’t usually give out As_.”

“Monsters,” Yukhei muttered under his breath. It was a rant near and dear to his heart.

“You’ll like him,” Jungwoo repeated, standing up to go and get more almond milk, hands properly warmed up now. “Amazing TA. You should hear him read poetry. Almost a religious experience.”

* * *

Yukhei’s capstone class was in the morning but the TA wasn’t the only one who Yukhei had heard glowing reviews about: the professor was, according to different rating sites, absolutely brilliant and it made getting up early and bundling up to go out into the snow well worth it.

The main lecture, Professor Choi told her class on the first day, would be delivered each Thursday. The TAs, of which there were three, would then be available from Friday through Wednesday to lead break-out groups to discuss and clarify any of the assigned reading. Ten, Yukhei found out, had a group on Monday afternoons — which was perfect, really, because that was one of the only weekdays that Yukhei didn’t have another lecture scheduled. There would be time over the weekend to read and then lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, his favorite way to process his course materials.

Yukhei pushed through the throng of students at the end of lecture until he found Ten packing up his messenger bag.

“Hey, um,” Yukhei started, suddenly nervous. If there was one thing Yukhei had learned about Jungwoo over the last decade or so, it was that he got along with everyone — but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were pleasant. Jungwoo was just sweet, he brought out the very best in people. “Ten?”

Ten glanced up from his bag with a smile. “Yeah?”

“I’m Yukhei. I know Jungwoo?” Yukhei mentally kicked himself. It wasn’t meant to be a question but it was that or sputtering out something extraordinarily juvenile. _You know my best friend, Jungwoo. BFF for life._ _You may have seen the friendship bracelet I made him over the summer._ Maybe, someday, when he was older, he would be cool.

“Oh, yeah.” Ten’s smile shifted slightly, for just a moment, and he looked back down at his things, buckling his bag. “Jungwoo mentioned you’d be in class.”

They had talked about him? Yukhei’s ears grew warm. What had they talked about? Had Jungwoo talked him up, too?

“He said you’re pretty great.” Yukhei left out Jungwoo’s comment about his poetry recitation, lest he (or Jungwoo, for that matter) sound like adoring fanboys.

“Did he?” Ten said with a laugh, straightening and looping the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, thumb tucked beneath it. He was, Yukhei noticed, much shorter, even when he was standing at his full height. It made Yukhei want to slouch, to keep from seeming intimidating.

“Yeah. I was wondering if you still had space for your Monday group?”

“Ah,” Ten started with a wince, “I just filled up. Monday is surprisingly popular.” Yukhei must have looked crestfallen because Ten exhaled and then tilted his head, looking up at him. “It’s fine. You can join us — I’ll just request a bigger room at the library.”

“Really?” Yukhei beamed. “Great. Amazing. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ten said and as they turned to exit the classroom, he patted the back of Yukhei’s arm, near his elbow. “If Jungwoo likes you, you’re _probably_ good people.”

* * *

Jungwoo was sitting on the couch when Yukhei returned from lecture, idly biting his fingernail as he read on his iPad, and he didn’t look up until Yukhei flopped on the chair across the way from him. “How was it? Do you like your teacher?” He asked, teasingly, as if he were Yukhei’s mother and not his best friend.

They had known each other since middle school. Each sixth grader was assigned a seventh grader to help make the transition easier: it was a new, bigger building than the elementary school they had attended the year before, and it was easy to get lost or confused while moving from classroom to classroom. Yukhei had put on a brave face for his parents when they dropped him off on his first day but he was, in all actuality, terrified.

Jungwoo had made it easier, with his wide, friendly smile and his endless cheer. By the end of the first semester, they were best friends, despite their age difference and that bond was strong enough for them to attend the same university. Yukhei couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for him to go anywhere else and not have Jungwoo there, waiting for him.

“Yes,” Yukhei said with a smile.

“And did you meet Ten?”

Yukhei nodded. “I got into his discussion group. Mondays, 3PM to 4:30.” The discussion group seemed long when Professor Choi had first brought it up but now, knowing that Ten would be leading it, Yukhei found himself really looking forward to it.

“Good,” Jungwoo said with a nod and then returned to his reading.

Yukhei picked at a pill in the fabric on the armchair. “He said you told him I’d be in class?”

Jungwoo looked back up, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Why? Did you want it to be a surprise?”

Yukhei thought of the way Ten’s smile had changed, flickering for just a moment before returning back to full dazzling wattage. So quick he doubted Ten realized it had happened, so quick he was surprised he had caught it. “No reason,” he said, hoping he sounded casual, slumping down more in the chair and crossing his long legs in front of him.

“Stop being weird.” Jungwoo tapped the edge of his iPad, presumably turning the page. There was a slight edge to Jungwoo’s voice that anyone else would have missed but Yukhei knew that he was starting to irritate him. A good friend would have noted it and course-corrected; Yukhei was, at best, a decent friend and instead, he leaned into it.

“Can’t,” Yukhei drawled, “won’t. You knew who I was when you moved in with me.” He slid further down the chair until he could kick at Jungwoo’s ankle, biting his lip to suppress his smile.

“I regret it every day,” Jungwoo muttered, pulling both his legs up onto the couch and out of reach.


	2. Chapter 2

As early as class was, it only took two lectures from Professor Choi for Yukhei to realize he had made the right decision. Her syllabus was long but upon further inspection, he realized that she hadn’t just listed the required readings — for each lecture, there were recommended readings as well. Yukhei found himself completely lost in the pages of books and printouts before too long, only coming up for air when it was time to pull on his jacket and make his way down to the university library for group.

Jungwoo was right about Ten: he was a fantastic TA. The discussion group he ran was, for lack of better term, a safe place. Yukhei’s classmates were encouraged to think out loud; he had been in other discussion groups where working through things actively had been discouraged. With Ten, it was all right if thoughts were incomplete. He didn’t want a well-rehearsed soundbite. He wanted sincerity.

All that said, Yukhei was absolutely silent for the first two groups.

“Yukhei,” Ten called as the students filed out of the conference room.

“Yeah?”

“Help me with the handouts?”

It was surprising to Yukhei that anyone left behind anything. After each discussion group, the supplemental reading Ten brought was always marked up with his notes, highlighted until it could be seen from space.

Maybe people just didn’t care, he thought to himself. It was a more irritating thought than it probably should have been. He wanted to take every piece of paper home, just to show Ten how much he appreciated the time and effort he put into copying them for the class.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Ten said when Yukhei handed him the small stack.

“Um,” Yukhei started, “yeah. Sometimes.”

“I read your reflections, I know that you’re understanding the materials, but I don’t think you’ve said more than a few sentences — in class or here.” The handouts slipped into Ten’s messenger bag and then he looked up at Yukhei with a wink before smirking. “Cat got your tongue?”

Yukhei laughed.

 _Cheesy_. He liked it.

“Nah. I can be kind of loud sometimes,” he said.

“Really?” Ten looked like he didn’t believe him.

“I got in trouble for it in high school. I talked over people a lot. I’m trying really hard not to do that these days,” Yukhei said with a shrug. It had been passion and excitement, for the work, for the exploration. But he didn’t want to say that — Ten being cliche was cute and playful, with his rimmed glasses and the self-aware way he’d follow up with a bite to the tip of his tongue. Yukhei wasn’t so sure Ten would find him as endearing.

“Ah,” Ten said with a nod. “You know, I appreciate that you’re mindful of that. So many people don’t realize how much space they take up in this world. But,” he continued, his smile softened, “I don’t want you to forget how to use your voice.”

It took a moment for Yukhei to answer and even then, the best he could come up with was a soft, “I won’t.”

“Good.” Ten buckled his messenger bag with finality. “If you don’t talk in the next class, I’m going to start calling on you,” he warned. “ _First_.”

“No,” Yukhei groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“First!” Ten insisted and they made their way toward the door. “I’ll make Professor Choi do it too! Don’t make me do that. I don’t like being mean. I mean,” he backtracked, looking slightly guilty, “I do, sometimes. But don’t make me enjoy being mean to _you_.”

“I won’t,” Yukhei promised as they parted, turning as he walked away so that Ten could see his crossed fingers. “I’ll say something in the next class.”

* * *

The following Thursday, Yukhei didn’t say a damn thing in class and he walked into discussion group on Monday full of dread.

“So what did we think of _Blankets_?” Ten looked around the table as he spoke, then settled on Yukhei. “What do you think, Yukhei? Is it a love story even if the guy doesn’t get the girl at the end?”

There were more than a few sets of eyes on him now and it was nerve-racking, having the group all focused on him, but he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s still a love story.”

Ten leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on the table. “But his relationship with Raina ends.”

“Yeah, but —“ Yukhei paused for a moment. “But that relationship is a catalyst for greater love. He doesn’t end up with Raina but he starts pouring more of himself into his relationships with his parents and his brother. He learns how to love himself. I don’t think the first love in this book is between him and Raina at all. I think his first love is himself.”

A few of his classmates nodded.

“What do you think Kierkegaard would think of him leaving his religion?”

“I think he would support it.”

Ten tilted his head skeptically. “Really? Unpack that for me.”

“If God wants him to love someone else, you know, his neighbor as he loves himself — and he doesn’t love himself — then isn’t he going against God?” Yukhei tapped his pen against his notebook a few times. His face felt hot. Was he talking too much? “I’m not religious but Craig was and he never felt like he was good enough at church. He can’t follow the teachings because he can’t love his neighbor, because he doesn’t love himself.”

“True, authentic love and religion are intertwined for Kierkegaard. Wouldn’t he argue that in order to learn to truly love his neighbor, he would need to keep his religion?”

“Not if he doesn’t believe he is good enough when he is there. He doesn’t love himself, so he can’t love another and if he can’t love another, he can’t listen to God. And if he can’t listen to God, he hates himself more. It becomes an endless loop. Isn’t it better to leave and learn how to love himself?”

Ten sat back in his chair, quiet.

“Good,” he said, finally. “I look forward to reading your reflection this week.”

And like that, it was over. He was off the hook. Part of him wanted to be irritated with Ten for pushing him so hard but, at the same time, it had been a thrill: holding Ten’s attention, defending his point. Earning his praise.

Yukhei smiled down at his notes.

At the end of group, Yukhei didn’t linger but he did offer Ten a smile before he slipped out the door. It was bitterly cold outside but he couldn’t feel it, he was glowing brightly enough to stave off the chill.

“You look like you won something,” Jungwoo said when he got home.

Yukhei laughed and shook his head. “Nah. Just a good discussion.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Logically, Yukhei knew that Jungwoo wasn’t looking for a play-by-play but he gave it to him anyway, sitting down at the table so he could act out Ten as closely as possible. He sounded like a little kid, just home from the museum and giddy about dinosaurs, but it didn’t matter. His body thrummed with happiness.

“You’re cute,” Jungwoo said fondly, when Yukhei was done. “I’ve never seen someone so psyched on Kierkegaard.”

“It’s _not_ Kierkegaard,” Yukhei laughed, waving his hands in front of him as if to dismiss the thought. “It’s — it’s —“

“Ten has a way of bringing this out in people.”

Yukhei blinked, his search for the right words to describe what he felt and why ending abruptly. “What?”

“Ten,” Jungwoo repeated. “That’s why students love him. Because he pushes them outside of their comfort zone. He’s going to be a great professor someday. I wish I could go back to undergraduate and take one of his classes,” he added, wistfully.

“It’s not Ten,” Yukhei said, as fiercely as he had before, with Kierkegaard.

Was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced: Blankets by Craig Thompson, Works of Love by Soren Kierkegaard.


	3. Chapter 3

Yukhei was seventeen years old when he fell in love for the first time.

It was an accident, really. They had known each other for years vaguely, acquainted through classes, existing on the periphery of each others lives until the summer before senior year. One afternoon, when it was too hot and too quiet, he crossed the street to play basketball with the neighbor and some friends who had come over. And there _he_ was, suddenly much taller than Yukhei remembered, his skin glowing with sweat as he feinted to the left, then twisted to the right to shoot the ball.

If Yukhei tried hard, he could still remember the first time he really, truly smiled at him, the way his eyes lit up as he recognized him.

“Fourth period chemistry, right?”

Yukhei didn’t try hard to remember much about him these days. In fact, he did his best to forget him. It was better that way, he knew it was, but every so often, when he couldn’t fall asleep and all he had to keep him company was his thoughts, they would drift back to him. And then all he could think about was how large his hands were and the way his mouth always tasted of peppermint gum.

He didn’t know who was more horrified when they were caught: his mother, who had come home early from work, or Yukhei, who had only ever gotten to first base with any of the girls he had dated and most definitely did not want to be forced into coming out before he was ready simply because he had been found making out with the cute guy who asked to copy his notes once in the ninth grade. Yukhei’s mother turned away and there had been a rush to rearrange clothes and make a hasty exit out the sliding glass door, and then there was silence.

She explained it away before he had a chance to find the words to tell her who he was: it was just a phase, she said. It was normal to experiment.

But that boy was never to come back, ever again.

It was awkward at school but Yukhei thought it would get better. How could it get worse?

Friday, in class, Yukhei raised his hand and in the middle of the answer, he could hear a familiar voice behind him, high-pitched and mocking. He didn’t have to turn to see who was laughing at him; he already knew.

“Dude,” the voice hissed. “Shut the _fuck_ up.”

After school, Yukhei went home, walked up the stairs to his bedroom, and laid down in bed. He knew that he couldn’t go to his parents for comfort: his mother refused to engage when Yukhei tried to bring up that afternoon, with _that boy_ , and his father, as far as he could tell, had no idea what had happened. Jungwoo was at university now and from the few texts that he had managed to send, it sounded like his first semester was rough. Yukhei had no one and so he swallowed it all up.

No one seemed to notice that Yukhei stopped talking. Or, if they did, it was more desirable this way. He dove deeper into his homework and his grades were better than ever. He did his best to be a good son; when his friends needed him, he was the shoulder to lean on, quiet and understanding.

This was who they all wanted. This, he decided, was who he was supposed to be.


End file.
